Beau pushed his plate away. “That was a damn fine wonton taco.”
“You say that every time.”
“Because they keep earning it.”
“You ordered Hank’s bourbon chicken?”
“And shrimp. They’re bringing it out in a sec.”
“Okay… the tip should be…uhm…” Grace looked at the check and held it at arm’s length.
Then a little farther.
She squinted. She wrinkled her nose. Tilted her head.
Beau watched for a minute.
“What’re you doing?”
“I’m trying to figure the tip.”
“That’s not what it looks like.”
“Well. I’m trying to read the total.”
“Oh?” Beau grinned.
“Yeah. So I’m making the face.”
“The face.”
“Yes.”
“What face?”
“The face that lets you read the little print.”
He looked at the receipt, then back at her.
“So… your eyesight depends on your expression? Kind of like holding your mouth just right?”
She ignored him and stretched her arm another inch.
“It usually works.”
“It usually works?”
“Yeah. I squint a little. Stretch my forehead. Stick out my chin…” She demonstrated each step. “... and eventually the words come into focus. Sometimes I have to wiggle the receipt.”
“Like a trombone?”
“Kind of.”
Beau stared at her.
“So you’re some kind of optical contortionist?”
She sighed.
“You don’t understand.”
“Oh. I understand.”
She lowered the receipt. “It quit working.”
“Did it?”
“Yeah. Weird.”
“When?”
“I don’t know. Recently, I guess.”
Beau reached into his shirt pocket and slid a pair of readers across the table.
“Welcome.”
“To what?”
“To the age where your arms are too short and your forehead won’t stretch far enough.”
“Oh...”
“What?”
“I can read it.”
“I know.”
“So. It wasn’t the face?”
“What did you think? You could make your eyeballs zoom?”
“Well. They did—for a while.”
“I’ll give you this: you avoided readers longer than most people.”
“Thank you,” Grace nodded at the obvious compliment.
“Of course. You also looked like you were trying to smell colors.”
“I guess I did look ridiculous.”
“You did.”
“Well. It worked until it didn’t.”
“Sure it did,” he said, amused. “So why didn’t you just use the readers, Grace?”
She looked at him. “You know, Beau.”
“Vanity?”
“Pure vanity.”
He nodded solemnly.
“Well, that seems fixable.”
“How?”
“We’ll get you some pink sparkly ones.”
“They have those?”
“Sure do. Right beside the rose-colored ones.”
“Oh.”
“Might as well get both. You’ve been looking at the world through them for years.”
Check out Life in the Fine Print, the full three-parter, at readSWG.com.
